


Interrupted

by eponine119



Category: Lost
Genre: F/M, Masturbation, Smut, Walking In On Someone, Watching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:40:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29231679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eponine119/pseuds/eponine119
Summary: “It's just sex, Juliet,” he says. “You don't gotta do it alone, either, if you want.”
Relationships: Juliet Burke/James "Sawyer" Ford
Kudos: 10





	Interrupted

Interrupted  
by eponine119  
December 13-14, 2020

Sawyer can't get his jumpsuit off fast enough, stopping in the entryway of the house in the middle of the day to undo the zipper and peel it down, stepping out of it. Even when it's off, he thinks he can still smell the puke. Not his own; belonging to the latest prisoner in the Dharmaville pokey, a janitor who apparently can't hold his liquor in the middle of the afternoon. 

As he reaches to pick up the offending garment, to put it into the washing machine on hot with lots of bleach, his ears pick up a sound from deeper inside the house and he stops to listen. Someone is whimpering, and it sounds like Juliet. 

Pulse pounding, he heads down the hall as silently as he can manage. The sound comes again, more insistently, as he reaches the closed door to her bedroom. His head is full of Hostiles and danger as he pauses to prepare himself for a fight, then pushes open the door. 

“You all ri--” The words die on his lips. His body freezes, brain switched off, seeing her in between blinks. She's stretched out on the bed, alone, completely naked. Her eyes are closed, her mouth is open, and she's touching herself.

Her blue eyes open, confusion turning to horror as she sees him. Her hand stops moving. “Close the door!” she cries. 

It's another moment before he can tear his eyes away. His hand grasps the doorknob and he steps back, pulling the door closed between them. His body pulses with the drumbeat of his heart, and he leans his forehead against the coolness of the door for a second. He should say something, but he doesn't know what, so he withdraws, creeping back down the hallway. 

He puts his jumpsuit into the washing machine and starts it. He hears Juliet's bedroom door open and when he turns, she's standing there in jeans and a loose t-shirt. Her face is pained when she looks at him. 

“Thought you had the house all to yourself, huh?” he says, leaning against the washing machine. 

“What the hell?” she says. “Why would you --” 

“Heard a noise,” he says. “Thought somebody was hurtin' you.” 

“Oh my god,” she moans, and puts her hands over her face. 

“Ain't nothin' to be embarrassed about,” he tells her, and when she lowers her hands, her face is a cold mask again, the way it used to be in the old days, when she had a lot more to hide. “Everybody does it.” 

“I know that, James,” she says. 

“I didn't see nothin',” he offers. Lying, and they both know it. He raises his eyebrows. “An' if I did, you ain't got anything to be ashamed of.” 

She nails him with a look, and it gets to him, though he'd never admit it or let it show in any way. They're alike when it comes to that. 

“How 'bout this,” he says. “You can return the favor. Any time you want. Walk in on me, and then we'll be square.” 

“That's not going to help,” she informs him. 

He shrugs, because it's all he's got to offer. “It's just sex, Juliet,” he says, and she exhales through parted lips and looks up at him with those big blue eyes of hers. “You don't gotta do it alone, either, if you want.” 

It has the desired effect. Her vulnerability is gone. She rolls her eyes and turns away. “What are you doing home, anyway?” she asks, her eyes flickering over his casual clothes and the washing machine churning behind him. 

“Got barfed on,” Sawyer says.

She wrinkles her nose. “That's what that smell is.” 

He shrugs. “Guess I need clean clothes and a shower,” he says, and looks at her, his lips quirking into one of his most charming smiles. He's about to make her a proposition that he knows she won't take him up on, but she interrupts before he can. 

“So when do you?” she asks, looking anywhere but at his face, with her arms crossed over her chest. She glances at him and raises an eyebrow and then looks away again. 

“Oh,” he says, shifting his weight. He wants to blow her off with a “whenever,” but he figures she deserves an answer. “Late night. Early morning. Shower, sometimes.” 

She nods, almost imperceptibly. 

“I'm a guy, sweetheart.” 

“I know,” she says. 

“Tell you what, I'll make it a nice long shower and you'll have time to finish up your interrupted business,” he says. “Cause I know you didn't have time to --” 

“I've got the whole house to myself once you go back to work,” she points out. 

“Oh ho,” he says, surprised, feeling she's matched him. So he shoots her down. “Unless Miles or Jin get themselves barfed on, and then...” He realizes he doesn't like that idea at all. He pictures Miles in his place and it raises his blood pressure. Sawyer thinks it's just because Miles wouldn't be as cool about it as he is, but he also knows he's lying to himself. 

For the first time in so many words, he realizes he wants her. Not just for companionship or someone to get his back. Her. Stretched out, underneath him... 

He forces himself back to reality. “Guess I'll get that shower now,” he says, brushing past her without a look back. 

Sawyer turns the water up to scalding and soaps himself down. He washes his hair, too, while he's in there, even though he knows she won't take him up on his offer. 

Any of his offers. 

Letting the conditioner soak in, he lets himself think about her. About the sounds he heard and the things he saw. He wonders how she likes to do it. If it's fast or slow. If she can get herself off more than once. He's known a lot of women, and no two have ever been alike. 

He sighs and turns his attention to himself, looking down at his cock. He's been half-hard since he opened the bedroom door. He tells himself it's just biology. But now, as he lets himself go into that realm of fantasy, his cock becomes achingly hard. 

Sawyer glances sheepishly at the door, but it hasn't opened and he knows that it won't. He figures she's probably left the house entirely. He wraps his hand around himself and jerks off quickly, groaning as he comes, counting on the sound of the water to drown it out. 

…

For the next week or so, he finds himself holding his breath, listening for the approach of soft footsteps in the darkness. Half-hoping for them. But nothing happens. Juliet avoids him, then things slowly get back to normal. She begins to figure more heavily into his fantasies, but it might just be that he's getting to know her better. 

One night he's out until dawn on some half-assed mission, trying to find one of Chang's rare, experimental birds that escaped. It's nocturnal, Sawyer was told when he asked if they could look for it in the daytime, and even then he commented, “Then we'll find it sleepin'.” 

His eyes feel as though they've been rubbed by sandpaper by the time they call off the search and he gets to head home. Sawyer throws his clothes on the floor and falls into bed with a sigh. His body aches from trekking through the jungle, and he's exhausted. 

Too exhausted to sleep, it turns out, as he watches the sun rise and the day begin to heat up. He should just get up, but he's too tired, and he knows he'll just be cranky and unfocused all day if he doesn't get some sleep. Besides, if he gets up now, Chang will probably just drag him out into the jungle again to find the damn bird, and being this exhausted out in the jungle sounds like a good way to get eaten by the black smoke thing. 

So Sawyer does the one thing he knows will help him sleep. He closes his eyes and conjures up a vision in his mind, letting his hand drift downward to rest against his thigh while his mind does its work on his body. He begins to stroke himself. 

There's a two-second knock at his door, followed by it opening. “Are you going to sleep all – oh.” Juliet stops, her eyes wide and her mouth pursed in a perfect circle. 

“Little busy here, sweetheart,” he says, holding his hand still. With his other hand, he grabs the sheets and pulls them over his lap. 

Juliet blinks like a spell has been broken and looks at his face. “I'm sorry,” she says. 

“Maybe we could talk about it later,” he says. “Unless you wanna give me a hand.” 

She shakes her head, eyebrows drawn together. She takes two steps back, into the hall, and pulls the door closed. “I'm sorry,” she says, again, from the other side of it. 

“Son of a bitch,” he breathes. He's never going to get to sleep now. 

…

Fifteen minutes later, showered and dressed, Sawyer strolls into the living room. Juliet sits on the couch, contemplating her fingernails, looking like she's waiting to be called into the principal's office. “Guess you finally got me back,” he says. 

“I wasn't – it was a mistake.” 

“I know,” he says, and goes into the kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee. He sips it, and exhales, and returns to the living room. “We gotta stop meeting like that.” 

“Locked doors,” she nods. “From now on.” 

“There's an alternative,” he says. Juliet glances at him curiously. He raises his eyebrows and can't help smiling. “You'n me could...” 

“No.” 

“C'mon,” he says. “Don't you think about it?” 

Her pink cheeks are answer enough. At least she doesn't lie to him and say no. It deepens his grin. 

“Or we could make a schedule,” she says. 

“I ain't scheduling my personal time,” he informs her. “I ain't even suggestin' doing anything we ain't already doing. We could just... do it together.” 

“Which would lead to other things,” she says. 

“Like what?” he teases, his voice like honey. 

“Complications,” she says firmly. 

“You really scared I'm gonna wanna touch you?” he challenges, and he sees it in her eyes when it lands. It was the wrong thing to say. Her walls go right back up. 

“No, James,” she says, in a thick voice. “I'm not.” She gets up to walk away from him. 

He has to stop her, but he can't think of anything that doesn't make him sound like a grade-A creep. He can't flirt or tease his way out of this. “I can't get you out of my head,” he ventures. Honestly. 

She gives him a look like she wants him to give her a break, but it stops her. Her arms are crossed and her eyes are full of doubts, but she looks at him. 

He has to say the perfect thing. The problem is, he doesn't know what she wants. He presses his lips together. “It ain't even sex. It's just...scratchin' an itch. Let's just try it.” 

“Okay,” she says, to his surprise. 

“Now?” 

She smiles. “You've already scratched your itch today, James,” she says, then thinks a moment. “Friday.” 

“Your place or mine?” he teases. 

“I'll come to you,” she says evenly, and his heart speeds up, because suddenly he knows she's serious.

…

Sawyer can't keep his mind on his work. He takes a wrong turn in the jungle and has to back the van down a trail for half a mile. When he stops at the general store on Friday, he almost drops the bottle of wine before he can manage to pay for it because his hands are shaking. 

It's been a long time since he's felt this way. This kind of anticipation giving way to nervousness. 

He watches Juliet at dinner. She's perfectly calm and it just makes him feel more jumpy. There's two parts to it. He's going to get to watch her. And she's going to be watching him. 

They make excuses not to join Miles and Jin at the usual Friday night movie showing in the rec room. The two men leave, and suddenly he's alone with Juliet. 

“Shall we?” she says. 

“Yeah,” he agrees, and follows her to his room. 

She turns the lock on the door, closing the two of them in together. Then she sits down on his bed. He sits down beside her. “Who's gonna go first?” he says. 

“I thought... we were going to go together,” she says. 

“Oh,” he says, a little disappointed. “Thought I was going to get to watch you.” 

“Is that what you want?” she asks. 

He looks anywhere but at her. “Yeah.” 

“I'm not putting on a show for you,” she cautions him, and reaches down to pull off her socks. 

“Whatever you normally do,” he agrees. 

“This is weird.” 

“That's why there's wine.” He gets up to grab the bottle from the dresser, then sits back down beside her. 

They look at each other for a long moment. Then he licks his lips and shakes his head so his hair falls into his eyes. He feels like he has to ask. “You sure about this, Juliet?”

“I'm here by my own choice,” she confirms. She holds out her hand for the wine. It has a screw top, and she breaks the seal.

“Forgot about glasses,” he says.

“Doesn't matter.” She swigs from the bottle. “Mmm.” She closes her eyes for a second, then passes the bottle to him. He takes a drink, placing his lips where hers just were on the hard glass, and swallowing it down. It's barely enough to take the edge off. “This gonna be a one-time thing?” she asks him. 

He shrugs. He doesn't know where he's hoping this will lead. Except he does. He does know. He wants to watch her, but he also wants her. 

“You still in?” she asks.

“Yeah.” He's breathless. 

She takes this in, looking at his face for a long moment. Then Juliet slips out of her blouse, folding it neatly and looking around for a place to set it. She decides on the dresser, and gets up, turning her back to him. His eyes skim over a round scar on the curve of her hip, then watch her fingers unhook her bra. It joins her blouse on the top of his dresser. Her back expands as she takes a deep breath and then undoes her jeans, stepping out of them. She's wearing white cotton underwear and she skims them off too. 

She turns to face him, fully undressed, and he just looks at her. Her blond hair curling against her collarbone. The full breasts he only got a glimpse of, before. Her long legs, and where they come together. She meets his eyes. 

The only sound in the room is their breathing. Hers is quick and soft and light. His rasps, and he holds it while she lies down on the bed beside him. Her hands gather her golden hair and sweep it to one side, and then she turns her head and her blue eyes meet his. 

Usually her eyes would be closed, he thinks. But she's watching him. The rapid rise and fall of his chest. His struggle to keep his expression neutral. She blinks at him, very slowly, and picks up her hand. He breaks her gaze to look. 

Her hand moves along her breast, cupping it from the underside and pushing it up. She tugs at her own nipple, pulling it into a stiff, pink peak. Her other hand covers her other breast and he thinks this is going to be more than he can stand. Sawyer glances at her face and finds she is still looking at him, watching him. He wonders what she's thinking. He's not in her head at all. 

She pulls up her knees and lets one hand drift down between her thighs. A small sound escapes her lips and her hips move, bucking up, just once. 

He wants to see her, so he gets up and moves to the end of the bed. Her long fingers have already parted her folds, and with her index finger she rubs back and forth along her clit. He thinks he can see it swelling under her ministrations, becoming more engorged and sensitive. With her index finger, she dips into her vagina, gathering the wetness there to slick over her skin. Then she pushes two fingers into herself. He hears her sigh as she moves them inside, in and out. 

He can smell her, and he wants to taste her, but all he can do is sit back and watch. His blood pounds in his veins and he wonders what she would do if she didn't get to watch him, if he came in his pants before she's through. He thinks of cold water and then remembers how when she was doing this before, when he walked in on her, she was whimpering, and how much he wants to hear that again. 

Her thighs tense, and her heels press harder into the softness of his bed. She withdraws her fingers and uses them to rub her clit, back and forth, teasing and then harder. He sees the muscles of her abdomen straining as she continues that motion. She makes those soft sounds again and he knows she must be close, just on the edge, waiting for the powerful pleasure to seize her and wash through her body. 

He wants more than anything to touch himself. He's already hard and aching behind the denim of his jeans, and it's distracting him when he doesn't want any distractions. 

Juliet groans, and her legs tighten, straining up off the bed. She's closed her eyes now. Her fingers keep moving as her hips buck, seemingly of their own volition, quick movements. Then her hand grows still and her entire body seems rigid, before relaxing back onto the bed with a sigh. He swears he can see the pulsing of her orgasm, and thinks about how it would feel, those strong contractions surrounding him. 

She starts to move her index finger again, rubbing back and forth. He watches her curiously, because this is one of the things he wanted to see, wanted to know. Her touch is light now, almost tentative. She's still sensitive from the orgasm, but that works in her favor, because another one rolls through her, this one deeper and more languid. She waits, and then begins to stroke again. 

“Juliet,” he says in a cracked voice. 

A soft cry is all he gets in answer, and the stillness of her hand as her body moves. He wants to touch her. He wants to feel it for himself, how delicate a touch to use, and how his fingers deep inside her would change her reaction, her noises. He wants to taste her. 

He watches her face. Her eyes are closed tight and her brows slightly drawn as she strains to find another release. It isn't that she's not thinking of him, that she's been able to forget that he's there. She trusts him. The realization feels like a full-body blow. Juliet trusts him. Not just with her life – this is so, so different. 

She starts to rub her clit again, but this time she clamps her thighs around her hand and rolls over to one side with an anguished sound. Her eyes meet his again. “Too much,” she says, and her voice is shaky. She could make herself come again, but now she's too sensitive for even her own touch. She can't stand it. She's done. 

She lies there for a moment, and he imagines she feels the pulsing heartbeat of her blood begin to slow; the ache begin to subside. 

Her tongue wets her lips. “Your turn,” she says. 

Sawyer groans as he rises from the end of the bed. It feels like all the blood in his body is concentrated in his dick. He's not sure how he's lasted this long. She's going to get the wrong idea about him. 

But first, he undresses. It seems only fair – she's naked, and he's still fully clothed, but only for the moment. He tosses his t-shirt off over his head, then drags down his jeans and steps out of them. He stands there, feet apart, and looks down at himself and then looks at her. She's seen it before, that one time, so there are no surprises and he knows he doesn't have anything to be ashamed of. 

She looks at him with her mouth open, and he wonders if she feels like he did a moment ago. If she longs to take him into her hand, into her mouth. So he does the next best thing and takes himself into his own hand instead. 

He doesn't mind being naked – he's proud of his body – but this, he finds, is different. It's strange being watched, in ways he didn't expect. This is his most personal act. 

It's tempting to put on a show for her, to make it not real. Meaningless. But she didn't do that. She was genuine, and open. She deserves the same. So he takes a deep breath and does what he would do if he was alone, even though he is very much not alone. 

He squeezes his fist down the length of his cock, pumping it. He struggles to keep his eyes open, wanting to see her reaction. Her eyes are dark. A few rapid strokes and he's already getting close, but he doesn't want this to end. Not yet. So he blows out a breath and takes his hand away. 

His knees are weak and shaky, so he sits down on the bed. Then he lies down, checking with her to make sure she can still see. She meets his eyes and there's something different there. It's not just desire anymore. He widens his eyes at her and she gives him a half-smile, her gaze dropping down to his mouth. He wonders if he's grimacing with pleasure, and if his dimples come out when he does. He's never given it a second thought until she looked at him that way. 

His fingers are light now, teasing against his hot, hard skin. He runs two fingers along his shaft, then uses his thumb to rub over the exquisitely sensitive head of his cock. It makes him groan. He's breathing hard now. Wrapping his hand around himself, he uses long, hard, fast strokes. His eyes slam closed as the red heat of his orgasm builds and overtakes him, fluid spurting out of him as he comes. 

When it's over, he drags his eyes open and reaches for tissues from the box he keeps on the bedside table. He wipes up the mess. Juliet is biting her lip and he looks up and down the length of her nude body beside him on the bed. 

“What now?” she asks, in a soft voice, with a new light in her eyes. 

“Now,” he sighs, and puts his hand out for her. 

She hesitates for a second, and he dies a little inside. But then she scoots over to cuddle up beside him, pressing her chest against his side. They fit. It's the first time in all of this that they've touched each other. He thinks he's never touched her, except to grab her arm to try to save her life. They've lain in bed together, and shared all of this, but haven't touched. He wants to put his arms around her, but he's still a little spooked, so he settles for merely stroking her hair. 

“That was a lot more intimate than I expected,” she says. “Intense.” 

A bolt of fear goes through him. He doesn't want her to have regrets about this. “You okay?” he asks, fingers still tangling idly through her hair. 

“Yeah,” she says, and he relaxes slightly. “I thought – I think we both thought – it wouldn't be as...” 

“Personal.” He picks up where she trails off. “It was supposed to be just jacking off.” 

“But it wasn't. At all,” she says. “I...” She shakes her head like she can't even find the words, burying her head against his shoulder. “We're not in a relationship. We've never even kissed.” 

“We could fix that,” he says softly, almost afraid to. 

She shudders against him, and he wraps his arm around her, pulling her closer. “I never come like that from sex. With another person. From having someone inside me. That was one of the most intense sexual experiences of my life, and you never even touched me.” 

“What're you sayin', Juliet?” He's afraid she has regrets. 

She picks up her head and looks at him. She looks devastated and ecstatic at the same time. “What happens when you do touch me?” 

He strokes the soft skin of her back. “Only one way to find out.” He sounds braver than he feels. He's good, but he's probably not coming three or four times in a row good. But it's different with another person than it is alone. Hell, they just proved that, if nothing else. 

“Not right now,” she says. 

He laughs. “Course not right now.” Never mind that it would take the slightest hint of her interest and he'd be hard again for her, and she'd probably be wet and ready for him. Neither of them is emotionally ready. There's a lot they both have to process from what just happened between them. 

“Just hold me now,” she says, putting her head back against his shoulder and burrowing against him. He holds her a little tighter, and thinks about all the things they have to look forward to. 

(end)


End file.
